


His Muse

by Invincible_Voldemort



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Annabeth Chase is a Good Friend, Artist!Percy AU, Best Friends, But also super oblivious, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Percy is a hermit, Romance, he's really sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invincible_Voldemort/pseuds/Invincible_Voldemort
Summary: Percy Jackson was at the height of his career. One of the most well-recognized young artists in New York City’s art scene, everyone is anticipating his next masterpiece. A piece that could launch him internationally. But why is it suddenly so difficult to find inspiration for his next piece? Was he looking too far?ORIn which Percy is a frustrated hermit who locks himself up in his studio from a lack of inspiration only to realize that said inspiration was closer than he had thought possible. His best friend.Artist!AU
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	His Muse

The splatter of cerulean blue paint had first hit the wall with a resounding thud before silently dripping onto the hardwood floor of the room.

Percy rubbed his face with his hands, groaning in despair as he sunk onto his wooden stool. The cans of untouched paint sat in the corner of the room as they collected dust from disuse. The sight of the large, white, unused white canvas leaning on its easel haunted him.

_Magnum opus his ass._

If he had only kept his mouth shut, but no. He had to have opened his mouth in front of the director of the art gallery in SoHo where his work had last been displayed at. What the hell had he been thinking?

He knew what he had been thinking. He had been thinking he was a fucking hotshot. The great Percy Jackson had made it big in New York City's thriving art scene. One of the biggest art scenes in the world. He had been dubbed the City's latest prince in the art world.

Of course every artist claimed that their next piece would be their magnum opus. _Their masterpiece._ But every artist also knew never to utter those words out loud, especially in the presence of other people. People with considerable influence.

The director had been quite obviously been impressed with Percy's pieces and had offered his services in connecting Percy with some of the biggest names in Europe for his next exhibit. _Paris, London, Berlin, Venice, Brussels…_

That had been nearly six months ago. Six long months of nothing. He glanced over to the bin overflowing with discarded, crumpled sketches. He gingerly picked up one of the sketches before recrumpling it and throwing it across his shoulder.

Every little spark that could have burgeoned into an idea was immediately extinguished. And there was one simple reason. He wasn't inspired. Percy had exhausted all his ideas. Maybe it was the pressure of having been called 'novel' and 'innovative' that scared him now. He was terrified at the thought of being called a 'has-been' or 'washout'. It was still too early. He had just begun reaching the peak of his career.

He couldn't be burned out already.

His agency had suggested a work trip of sorts for Percy to draw inspiration from. When Percy had seen that the destination was Europe, he readily agreed. Afterall, if he wanted his next exhibition in one of those fancy schmancy European art galleries, maybe he could find something to inspire his next theme?

Wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

He had stood in front of _The Raft of Medusa_ at the Louvre and had been utterly unimpressed. _The Mona Lisa_? Lackluster. _Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss_? Ugh.

He had come back from the City of Love wholly uninspired. If anything, the trip made him more lethargic and seemed to have drained him of the last dregs of energy.

Since his return a month ago, Percy had kept himself holed up in his studio, only making brief ventures outside to grab take-out. He hadn't talked to anyone, except for a brief message to his mother that he had returned to New York safely.

As he contemplated the blue paint he had just splattered on the wall, he knew he needed something… someone… to take his mind off his complete lack of inspiration for tonight.

He dialed a number on his phone, hoping she would pick up despite him being the shitty recluse he was.

"Hey, 'Beth…"

Δ

He jumped up eagerly from his couch when he heard the doorbell ring. Percy opened the door to find a weary Annabeth carrying a pizza box, a hint of a smile playing on her lips when she saw Percy's face.

"Annabeth!" he launched himself at her and hugged the life out of her as she gingerly moved the pizza box to the side. The green-eyed man hadn't seen her in nearly two months and regretted having not contacted her sooner.

"Hey Perce."

He dragged her to the couch and took the pizza box from her hands. The blonde looked on with fondness as her best friend dug into the pizza in excitement. He didn't even note the still hot cheese dripping down his chin.

"Hungry are we?"

"Starved," he confessed, the words almost difficult to understand with the pizza stuffed in his mouth.

"Percy, just how long have you been holed up in the studio?" she asked with concern as he began inhaling another slice of pepperoni and sausage. Annabeth knew Percy had the unhealthy tendency to lock himself up in his studio to focus on his work. Afterall, it was his dedication to his craft that had gotten him as far as he had. The hours and devotion he put in clearly showed in his artwork.

"A while," he admitted quietly. He continued before Annabeth could interrupt, "But, 'Beth, I can't… I've been stuck. I'm in a rut."

"Perce," she began softly, "This really isn't healthy. You need to take a break."

"That's what I've been doing!" his voice rose to a slightly harsher tone before settling back down. "Wise Girl, it's been six fucking months since my last exhibit. I have no idea what I'm planning to do next. Every time I pick up a pencil, I just want to stab the sketchbook. I'm lost. I'm afraid— I'm afraid that I've lost my passion."

"Oh, Perce…" Annabeth drew him closer to hug him as he hid his face in the crook of the neck. Annabeth could feel his tears slowly wet her shirt as he made no attempt to hide his sobs. She gently patted his head as she tried to think of a way to cheer up her best friend of fourteen years.

Annabeth knew Percy like the back of her hand, and she had never seen him so despondent before.

"Perce, get up," she stood up, displacing him from her arms.

"Wha—?"

"Let's make some cookies."

Percy's tears had dried on his face at this point as he looked up at her questioningly, "Blue?"

"Duh."

He watched with faint amusement as she attempted to find the ingredients for making the cookies. Percy smiled at how determined her gray eyes looked as they scrunched up in concentration. Taking some pity on her, he dug out the stored ingredients and placed them in front of her on the kitchen counter.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" she grumbled.

"But where's the fun in that?" he responded in a sing-song voice.

She simply huffed in exasperation before putting on the artist smock hanging on the wall.

"You realize that's not an apron, right?" he raised his eyebrows in perplexment.

"Then why the fuck would you hang it in the kitchen, dumbass?"

He had no response to that.

The process of making the cookies took longer than Annabeth had anticipated with Percy attempting to undermine every step of the process.

"Fucking hell, Perce. You just mixed up baking soda and baking powder..."

"I know."

"Did you want these cookies or not?" Annabeth placed her hands on her hips before dropping them to the side once she realized she looking like a mother scolding her son.

Percy, on the other hand, appeared unabashed. "It's fun seeing you exasperated," he responded with a grin. He didn't notice the light pink tinting on Annabeth's face at his words.

It took 40 minutes longer than normal, but the cookies finally came out of the oven. And edible. No thanks to Percy of course. She slapped his hand away from the tray as he reached over to grab one.

"Owww," he whined. "I just wanted to taste one."

"Once we're done cleaning up and let the cookies cool for a bit."

Fifteen minutes later, the pair found themselves back on the couch, each with their own plate of cookies.

"How you feelin' now?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you feeling better now, Perce?" she asked with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh," the blue chocolate chip cookie dangled from his mouth as he responded. "This was nice. I liked this…I really enjoyed this."

"Should we make this a tradition? It doesn't have to be baking cookies. Just anything. Once a week, whenever you feel like you're in a funk."

"Annabeth, you don't need to do this."

"Look, we've known each other for over half our lives. I hate seeing you like this. I know you feel like you need to be tied to your easel, but locking yourself up in that room is not the answer. You are not going to get any inspiration from staring at those four walls twenty-four seven."

"I know, but it still seems like this would be asking too much of you."

"Besides, maybe, this way I get to actual see you instead wondering when the hermit will emerge from his cave again," she added almost bashfully.

Percy gave a short chuckle, "Wise Girl, you're the best friend anyone could ever ask for."

Annabeth was glad that their position made it difficult for Percy to see her face. Despite what he had said, Annabeth couldn't help but yearn for more as the words squeezed her heart. More than being his best friend.

Δ

Percy found himself having much more human interaction the weeks following his and Annabeth's baking experience. He knew Annabeth was right. His studio was not going to give him any motivation. He had taken to talking to his mother more often and had begun going out for drinks with Grover.

However, the biggest difference had been Annabeth. True to her word, she came over to his place every time he was in low spirits or frustrated. They'd bake, cook, watch TV… do anything to keep Percy's mind preoccupied.

This was also when Percy began sensing a shift in himself. In how viewed Annabeth. He caught himself staring at her several times. For fourteen years, Annabeth had been at his side despite his inability to be a good friend. He disappeared for months on end to focus on his art, but Annabeth never seemed to hold that against him. They would always pick up where they had left off.

_So…what had changed now?_

Why did he blush and turn away quickly when she looked over at him? Why did he feel his heart beat faster when she smiled? Why did he spend time counting down to when he would next see her? He was 26 years old for god's sake. Not a middle schooler with a crush!

Even lying on the couch and watching a movie together, something they had been doing since their childhood, felt more intimate to him.

As Percy felt a shift in his emotions, he noticed that this was beginning to manifest in his art too. As the weeks continued, he no longer felt burdened by being in his studio. He still hadn't found his inspiration yet, but he didn't hate the idea of picking up a pencil or brush anymore.

Percy found himself frequently mindlessly sketching in his sketchpad. It was always the same figure. Or hint of a figure. He had yet to get past outlining the hair. He couldn't for the life of him visualize the face. Pages upon pages of his sketchpad featured the long, curly tresses of a faceless young woman.

However, after the twentieth such drawing, he felt his frustration get the better of him as he ripped his last drawing from the book before shredding it to pieces.

He picked up his phone before pressing the contact listed at the top, "Hey, Annabeth, do you mind if we hung out tonight…at your place?"

Δ

He shuffled his feet anxiously, too timid to knock on her door. The bottle of expensive Port felt heavy in his hand. He finally gathered up the courage to quickly tap on the door. He waited, hearing no sound of movement inside.

Percy almost chickened out and turned back when he heard the door unlock.

"Hey," she waved hesitantly.

"Hey," he responded in kind. The words got stuck in his throat as he observed her in her strapless white blouse, paired with blue jeans.

Annabeth averted her eyes when she saw Percy just stare blankly at her, "Uh… why don't you come in?"

"I brought wine," he pointed out stupidly, before cursing himself internally for stating the obvious.

"I can see that," she said teasingly. The grin on her face seemed to ease the tension between the two friends.

He raised an eyebrow, "And this wine could use two glasses, Ms. Chase."

"I suppose it does, Mr. Jackson," she played along.

They settled into the loveseat in Annabeth's living room with the bottle of wine on the floor in front of them. Annabeth's legs were tucked up into the couch while a cheese platter separated the two of them.

She nudged Percy with a toe, "So?"

"So…?"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seemed a little tense earlier today when you called."

"Just frustrated."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly. It's the same issue as always. I'm stuck."

"Perce—"

"It's alright, 'Beth, I just needed a break. C'mon, let's watch something."

Annabeth found herself on the floor two hours later with Percy's head in her lap. The cheeseboard had been completely polished off. And the Port? She wasn't sure how many glasses she had drunk. Seeing Percy's state, she assumed she was somewhat similarly inebriated.

Percy shifted in her lap so that his face could now look up at her. Even from this angle, she looked nothing short of a goddess. A gentle smile settled on his face as he watched her focus on the movie.

Soon enough however, Annabeth could feel his gaze as she moved uncomfortably.

"Percy, what are you looking at?"

"You," he stated simply. A second too late, Percy realized how forward he had been and his face began to flush a deep red. And it wasn't from the wine.

Annabeth's mouth opened but she appeared incapable of a response. Percy took this moment to remove himself from her lap and move further away in mortification.

"Annabeth, I didn't mean—"

"Percy…"

Percy sighed knowing that he was being a coward. He mustered up the courage as he thought of how he was going to express himself. "Annabeth, to be honest, I wanted to spend some time with you. I like spending time with you."

"I'd hope so, seeing as we're friends," Annabeth muttered as she hid her face between her knees. Her heart echoed Percy's, each thump growing louder in their ears as the pair tried to come to terms with their feelings with one another.

Percy reached out and tugged at her arm to bring her closer to him.

"That's not what I meant. Annabeth—"

Annabeth glanced up, noticing, for the first time, the turmoil on Percy's face as he had stopped speaking.

"Can I—" he paused again as his voice quavered slightly. The nerves were getting to him. He knew his next statement would change the nature of their relationship no matter what her answer was. "Can I kiss you?"

If Percy hadn't felt like his heart was about to burst out from his chest, he would have laughed at how Annabeth's eyes widened comically.

He looked anxiously at Annabeth's face as he waited for a response. And there it was.

An imperceptible nod. _Yes._

Before Annabeth had a chance to say anything, Percy took her face in the palms of his hands. Annabeth looked away in embarrassment from the look of adoration on his face. He tilted her chin up as he kissed her slowly, hoping that all his feelings could be conveyed through the kiss.

"Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth," he chanted softly as the blonde woman blushed fiercely.

His lips trailed down her jawline as they met the tender skin below. His neck dipped as he began pressing kisses on her exposed collarbone. He began nipping at a particularly soft area near the base of her neck as he continued to utter her name in reverence.

Percy felt something snap inside him when he heard the near obscene moan coming from Annabeth's lips, "Perce…"

He stood up quickly as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His arms securing her against him, Percy continued sucking at Annabeth's collarbone as he blindly made his way to her bedroom. Annabeth, with shaky hands, began to pry open the top buttons of his shirt.

He set her down gently on top of her mattress. Percy took a moment to look at the flushed woman in front of him. Her blonde hair fanned her face like a golden crown. Percy didn't think he had ever seen anything so beautiful…so heavenly… in his life before. And he had seen a lot of art before.

Annabeth groaned at the loss of contact, jolting Percy from his thoughts. He touched his forehead to hers as he mumbled, "Are you okay with this?"

She nodded, still unable to do much other than moaning his name.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, still hesitant…and honestly shocked…that she reciprocated his feelings. Well, she hadn't said anything explicitly, but she did like him too, right?

She took his face in her hands as she said resolutely, "Percy, I want you."

All other inhibitions gone, Percy took his time kissing her slowly. His lips trailing over any accessible skin as she whimpered underneath him.

"You're beautiful, Annabeth," he whispered in her ear as he began to worship her, the veritable goddess in front of him.

The utter bliss he felt when she looked at him made him forget all the troubles of these past few months.

Annabeth lightly traced her fingers up and down his bare chest. Her cold fingers along with his oversensitive state caused him to shudder at her touch. He laid his head at the crook of her neck as he felt his release approaching. Percy heard her gasp underneath him from the sensation, and he stifled his groan against her neck.

He felt her breathing slow down. Annabeth grabbed his hand in hers, a silent plea asking him to stay.

Minutes later, Annabeth was fast asleep while Percy's heart began to race again. He hadn't expected this outcome when he had rung Annabeth's door tonight. He looked at her peaceful resting face.

Her face was completely smooth and appeared worriless. Her tan skin still held a hint of a flush. A satisfied smile made its way to Percy's face as he stared at the art in front of him. She was like an empty canvas. _His empty canvas._

His fingers gently brushed over the purplish marks beginning to form at her collarbone. _His signature._

She winced at the chill touch but remained sleeping.

He swept away the straw-colored tresses of hair adorning her face.

Percy paused.

Of course.

How had he been so blind?

How hadn't he seen it before?

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, a tear slowly escaped from his eyes, wetting her skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the sleeping woman in front of him. Offering no further explanation, he gathered his clothes quickly before putting them on. With one last look at Annabeth, he closed the door of the apartment behind him.

Δ

Percy had spent the last three weeks inside his studio. He only left the room to grab food once a day or to use the bathroom. He slept in the room too, too involved in his work to bother taking 10 steps into his adjourning bedroom.

He had cut off all contact with everyone. His mom, Grover… _Annabeth_.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen his phone.

Percy didn't think they'd be worried. After all, he had done this several times before for his previous pieces. They had learned to accept that this was a part of his method. They had learnt the hard way just how aggravated he got when he was disturbed during this creative process.

He once again groaned in irritation as the lines didn't cooperate with his vision. He rubbed the pencil smudges on his hand as his annoyance increased. He had fully finished the sketch, but transferring it over to the canvas was more difficult than he had imagined. He hadn't even gotten to painting yet.

Percy erased the errant lines, cursing his inability to capture the ethereal image in his mind on canvas. His eyes glanced at the gold colored paint waiting to be used. His fingers itched at the thought.

He picked up the pencil he had flung across the room earlier and tucked it behind his ear. Putting his hands into the pockets of his smock, he observed the work he had done so far.

He had managed the hair easily enough, but the face still troubled him. He had the image in his mind this time, but nothing he did could mimic the real thing.

What type of an artist was he anyway?

Percy pushed the sleeves of his tan sweater up again as they threatened to fall past his elbow.

He began munching on the bag of Bugles as he continued to stare at the canvas. He set the chips on his desk when he realized he couldn't focus from the loud crunching noises. A flash of blonde caught the corner of his eye. He glanced down at the photograph hidden underneath piles of sketches, sketch pens, and broken charcoal pencils.

He tugged the photo out without toppling anything over in the process. Percy stared at the photo as he considered the subjects.

Hm.

Maybe not everything was lost after all.

Δ

Four months.

That's how long it had been since Annabeth had last had any contact with Percy. After their night together, she had found her bed empty the next morning.

No message. Nothing.

She had tried calling him, but his phone had been switched off. Calls to Sally and Grover indicated that they too were unable to reach Percy.

Was it normal to go without hearing from Percy for this long? Yes.

Did this stop her from feeling disappointed? No.

From feeling used? No.

She had considered going over to his apartment but knew how much he despised being disturbed. Or so she used as an excuse. In all honesty, she was hurt and didn't want to be the one to initiate any conversation.

She couldn't believe she had deluded herself into thinking that he had cared for in the same way she did for him.

He had gotten what he wanted and left. A quick fuck. No more, no less.

Fourteen years of friendship thrown away for one night.

Did he even care? Or was she the only one who felt a sense of loss?

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the name on the screen. _Sally_.

"How are you holding up, sweetheart?" the older woman asked with concern in her voice.

"I'm— I'm fine," she responded after a long pause.

"Did you want me to come over today?" Sally asked.

"It's alright, Sally. I was just going to get some fresh air. Go to park or something."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright, darling. Take care. I'll come over later this week."

"See you soon, Sally."

Annabeth stood up from the chair of the dining table. She looked down at the growing bump with some sadness. She rubbed it gently, "It's just you and me, bub."

She bundled herself in her winter long coat. The buttons just barely strained from her stomach, but the coat hid any visible signs of her pregnancy.

As she put on her boots, she heard a faint knock on her door.

She wasn't expecting anyone. Nevertheless, she hesitantly opened the door.

Standing in front of her was the last person she had expected to appear.

Annabeth made a move to close the door on his face, but Percy extended his arm to prevent it from shutting.

"Annabeth…" he began once the door was closed behind them.

"What are you doing here, Perseus?"

Percy flinched at the sound of his name passing through her mouth with such disdain. What a change it was from the last time she had been saying his name.

"I— I'm sorry," he hung his head in shame.

"For what exactly? For ignoring everyone's existence? For being a shitty friend? For making me feel cheap?" Annabeth hadn't meant to raise her voice. She didn't want to show Percy just how much his absence had hurt, but the emotional vulnerability she had kept hidden these past few months finally managed to rear its ugly head.

"I'm really sorry," he broke down. "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend. Especially when you've always been by my side no matter how reclusive I've been. I didn't mean to hurt you, but that's what I've been doing, right? I've just been using you like you're my personal therapist… I haven't been a friend to you."

"Friend?" Annabeth scoffed. "Did you just call yourself my friend? Then what the hell was that night, Percy? Was I just another slut who opened her legs for the latest prince of New York's art scene?"

"What— Annabeth, no!" Percy was stricken by the accusation. "Of course not. Wise Girl, that night… that night was special. I lov—"

"Right, special enough for you to leave immediately and cut off all contact for four months."

"I love you," he said as the tears spilled over.

Annabeth's immediate reaction to the words was an overwhelming urge to cry alongside Percy, but there was no way he was allowed to pull that card on her like this.

"You have a funny way of showing it. Not just me, to everyone who loves you. I know this is part of your process as an artist, but cutting yourself off like this hurt so bad, Percy. I thought— I thought I meant nothing to you."

The tears she had tried so hard to keep at bay finally broke through.

Percy reached out to her hesitantly. When she showed no signs of moving away, he pulled her in tightly as he hugged her fiercely.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… I wasn't thinking. I'm a fool. A fool, who for fourteen years, failed to see what was right in front of him. I promise…I promise this will never happen again, love." Percy rubbed his hands gently up and down her back.

Annabeth's grip on Percy's shirt tightened as she hugged herself closer to him. Despite herself, she craved the contact she had missed for four long months.

He gently took her face in his hands as he used his thumbs to remove the shed tears. He hated himself the moment he saw those red eyes.

She pulled away, and Percy nearly whined from the loss of contact.

"Why are you here? I mean why are you here now?" she clarified.

"I wanted to show you what I had been working on these past few months. I wanted you to be the first to see it," he admitted shyly.

Δ

Annabeth took in the painting in front of her. The artwork that had taken all of Percy's attention for the last four months.

The artist's eyes were trained on her rather than the piece itself. He looked nervous.

It was stunning.

Annabeth drank in the image of the woman painted on the canvas. The woman's honey blonde hair was painted with in fine gold strokes. She looked like a celestial being. A goddess. Annabeth noted, with shock, that she had startling, silver gray eyes. While the woman's face took up a majority of the canvas, her hand was also present in the frame, in close proximity to the woman's eyes. And kneeling in the palm of the goddess was a very tiny, black-haired man. He looked at the angelic being with such veneration in his green eyes. The details were visible and so clear despite how small the man looked in the palm of the goddess.

"Perce, it's gorgeous. She's gorgeous," she breathed.

The breath that Percy had been holding finally escaped, allowing him a sense of relief.

"She's you. The painting is titled _The Temptation of the Muse_. Annabeth," he took her hands in his. "You, you were my inspiration all along. You are my muse."

Annabeth looked at the beautiful green-eyed man standing in front of her. She could barely see him with the tears blocking her sight. Annabeth launched herself at him, hugging him tight. She could never let this man slip through her fingers again.

"I love you, Percy Jackson," the words she had been yearning to say slipped out effortlessly.

"And I you," he responded, placing a kiss on forehead before snuggling his face into her neck.

Minutes later, Annabeth took a step back to look at the painting again as Percy tried to tug her back into his arms.

"So, this is your magnum opus, isn't it?"

"Yup, took a while, but this it."

Annabeth smiled with a knowing look on her face, "Might be a little too early to claim that. Something tells me your next masterpiece might take a little longer, but _The Temptation of the Muse_ is going to have some hard competition."

Percy's expression reminded her of a lost child, "What are you talking about?"

"Percy, don't freak out," she cautioned him as she unbuttoned her winter coat.

"Annabeth, what are—"

Before he could finish his sentence, his mouth froze. Annabeth had never seen anyone's eyes grow as wide as Percy's eyes had when they made contact with the swell of her stomach.

She gently took his hands and placed them on the bump. This action appeared to shake Percy out of his shock as he knelt down to eye level with her stomach.

"Wise Girl, is this real? Are we really having a— ?"

The soft smile that graced Annabeth's face was the only answer Percy needed. He tenderly began planting kisses on her stomach as Annabeth's fingers carded through his unruly hair affectionately.

"Percy Jackson, meet your next magnum opus."

“Our magnum opus.”

Δ

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorely tempted to expand this AU because Artist!Percy is so oblivious, but also really sweet. Plus, I love Percabeth as parents, although that wouldn't be the focus. 
> 
> This is my first (completely) Percabeth story in four years (not including the Percabeth/Jercy story, House of Cards, that I posted last month), so I hope I did justice to their relationship. This plot came to me at 4 AM…
> 
> I would truly appreciate any kudos, feedback, or comments you might have on this story!


End file.
